


hey stranger, can i have a kiss?

by arexnna



Series: lost stars [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kiss Cam AU, Watching Basketball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arexnna/pseuds/arexnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ignoring Emma Swan never leads to anything good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hey stranger, can i have a kiss?

_inspired by[this](http://blowmiakisscolin.tumblr.com/post/107689799768/cs-fic-idea-based-on-this-kiss-cam-video) with slight alterations (you should definitely watch the [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qh0BwuxHRAg&feature=youtu.be) before reading this)_

-/-

It’s not like he’s never dragged  _her_  to go to something she doesn’t like, but at least she has the good grace to  _look_ as though she’s interested in his pretentious wine tastings with his fancy friends from the Upper East Side. And yet, here he is, (as if the whiny remarks made on the way here weren’t enough) phone in hand and eyes glued to the screen. She doesn’t know why she expected anything but this from him – after all, whenever there’s a game on on any given night, he comes up with an excuse to actually go  _out_ on a date, just so that he wouldn’t have to lay on the couch as with the iPad in his hand while she coaxes him to interest him into the game.

“Walsh, come on,” she nudges him with her elbow, and even that, he barely lifts his eyes off the phone. “At least  _try_ and enjoy the game.”

_There you go_ , she thinks, when he drops his hands to his lap and sends her a tight lipped smile. She takes it, because  _this_  is as good as it gets with him.

“Bloody  _fuck_ ,” the man next to her with a thick accent curses, his hand curled into a fist as he hits it in frustration against his thigh. He’s literally on the edge of his seat, completely immersed into the game. She eyes him with a little tilt of the head, noticing the familiar blue and orange colors on his cap.

_‘I feel you’_ , she thinks, as the smile she can’t help graces her lips.

“What’s that, lass?” he turns to her with a curious smile. 

_Fuck_ , she hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud, but  _hey_  – she glances over at Walsh who’d returned to his phone (1 minute! A new record!) – since her own boyfriend  won’t pay attention, she might as well talk to the stranger who looks like she can actually rant and rave with. The first thing that she notices is the light blue of his eyes, the color contrasting with the dark hairs of his scruffy beard.

“It’s ridiculous isn’t it – the way they’re playing,” she says smoothly, as though she’d actually meant to say the previous words out loud.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, nodding his head as he lifts the bottle of beer he holds to his lips. “I don’t understand why I’m so surprised anymore – it’s not like we’ve actually been playing well, as of late.”

She smiles, a sweet and warm one before she turns back to the court, and she sees that he does too.

Just before halftime, he taps on her shoulder, his body leans slanting in his seat towards her. “To be honest, lass – I actually don’t know much about basketball,” he confesses, and she looks at him confused.

“Then why act like you do?” she raises an eyebrow. He probably thought it would be a good pickup line – talk about the game, laugh and cheer together before asking for her number – and she’s ready to roll her eyes because her boyfriend is literally  _right there_ (not that Walsh had given any indication to outside eyes that they were anything more than strangers sitting next to each other)

He shrugs, “You see that lad over there,” he nods to his left, towards the boy who’s very much glued to the game. He looks just over 9 – dark hair and a handsome face – dressed in the full Knicks fan attire – blue jersey with his face painted orange, and her heart fills up at the way focus is evident on the young boy’s face. “Well, that wee lad is my nephew – and his father was supposed to come with him – but my git of a brother seemed to have overbooked this time slot. So, I was begged to come and act as though I know the first thing about basketball.”

The queued eye roll is halted by an admiration that she doesn’t show. At least the accented stranger has the decency to pretend for his nephew – whereas Walsh has his brows furrowed as he taps furiously on his screen.

“Not bad, Irish,” she credits him and he smiles widely. “Fooled me.”

He laughs at that, scratching a spot behind his ear. “He was looking forward to this, so I didn’t have the heart to ruin it for him.”

_At least some people feel that way_ , is on the tip of her tongue, but it’s interrupted when the ref blows for halftime, and Irish’s attentions are turned back towards his nephew.

“Bloody hell, that was ridiculous!” she hears the young boy say, and she smiles quietly at the passion he has in his voice when he says it.

“Completely. I can’t believe—  _Hey!_  You’re not allowed to say that!”

The boy’s just about to retort, when the crowd’s cheers drown out his reply. She’s familiar with those cheers – the several whistles and ooohs is all she needs to know that it’s time for the next Kiss Cam victim. And so she applauds with everyone else, looking up to the jumbotron only to see—

Fuck.

It’s her face and Walsh’s and she freezes.

The sounds around the court grow louder, and she realizes she has nothing to lose, after all, he  _is_ her boyfriend.

Except, when she shakes his arm lightly, he doesn’t budge, ignoring her for whatever work related matter it is now.

She’s beginning to feel embarrassed, thousands of peoples eyes on her as her boyfriend refuses to pay attention to her.

So—

She twists in her seat, not allowing herself to think before she leans in touches her lips to Irish’s. His lips are still against hers initially, but it changes in a second when she feels his fingers in her hair and he pulls her closer to deepen the kiss—

And the crowd goes wild.

But his lips are far from satisfied (and  _fuck_  – it’s a mutual feeling between both lips) and she feels his tongue nudge at the seam of her mouth. So sue her for being weak to that, but she opens her lips the slightest and now they’re full on making out.

It’s the clearing of the throat of Walsh that pulls them apart, and Emma cringes at how she’s going to do this. She mouths a  _‘thank you_ ’ at Irish and he grins cheekily, murmuring “Good luck,” at her.

When she faces Walsh again, she cuts off his “What the hell, Emma?” and shuts him up completely. “That’s the first time you spoke a word to me in almost an hour –“ he tries to get a word in, but “– just go home, Walsh.”

His mouth is left hanging, but she doesn’t wait for him to leave before she turns back to Irish, a huge smile she can’t help contain evident on her lips that’s matched with his.

“Hi, I’m Emma,” she holds her hand out, seeming far more confident than she really feels. His smile is wide and his eyes crinkle at the corners when he takes her hand in his and shakes it. His stare pierces through her and  _fuck,_ are those eyes are blue.

In under an hour, she’s managed to drag her (now ex)boyfriend to a game, be ignored throughout said game, meet Irish,  _kiss_ Irish, break up with boyfriend and  _boy_ , she doesn’t regret anything – not when her hand is still in his and his eyes are still on her.

“Killian,” he grins, “But I think I quite like ‘Irish’.”

_Well, fuck._

_-/-_


End file.
